husband

Apparently, I live under a rock. There is a band that is pretty popular yet I just learned of them. I used to be the one who introduced my friends to cutting edge and new music, but not anymore. I blame my iPod. An iPod guarantees commercial-free music – my favorite music. Why wouldn’t I chose that over the radio? Anyway, that’s not the point of this post.

Recently, I heard Say Something (ft. Christine Aguilera) by A Great Big World. I have only heard it twice, yet I woke up at 4:00am this morning singing the harmony to the chorus line. I just had to find the song and learn all the lyrics. (It’s times like this that I miss my piano and miss Mini-Me and her guitar). I found 2 videos on YouTube – one with sand art and one with Christine Aguilera. The latter captivated me. The harmonies are so haunting. I start crying.

It’s 4:00am.

Why in the hell am I sitting in the middle of the living room, curled up in the fetal position, ugly-crying and singing this song, with my dog staring at me as if I have 3 heads?

Then I realize . . . this is closure.

My divorce was July 31 of this year. It was a strange and long process to finally get to that day. I was separated for 8 years. Yes, you read that right. Eight (8) years. This post isn’t about blame or anger. It’s about the death of hope when a marriage ends. That’s what I hear in this song and it’s what brings me to my knees in realization of who I was while married and who I want to be now.

I blamed my ex-husband for his mistakes in our marriage, but by the time I realized my equally bad mistakes, we were already separated. Not only was he done with me but he was finding new relationships. It took 8 years for me to finally say that I’m done too. During this whole time, all I wanted, was to show my husband how I changed. All I wanted was a second chance to show him that it could be different for us. We both made mistakes. Many of my friends and family told me that his mistakes were bigger and I just needed to move on. But what most friends did not understand was that my mistakes, although they may be small in comparison, we’re so hurtful to him. I cut him badly with my mistakes. They contributed to his acting out. No, my mistakes that hurt him are not excuses for his choices, but they certainly wounded him deeply. All I wanted now, was a chance to show him how our life could be better because I’ve changed so much.

Say something. I’m giving up on you.

Please hear my contriteness and let’s try again. Let’s not kill our marriage without one last try. But you have to take a step towards me.

I’m sorry that I couldn’t get to you.

I know the pain I caused. Oh, how I wish my eyes were open to that years before. I know that I used my silver-tongue to slice you through. If I could go back, I would.

I know I’m the one who kicked you out. I know I’m the one that pushed you in a corner and bruised you. I know that we’re separated because I made choices that wounded you so deeply, but we’re here now. Listen to me now. Hear me now. Make a move so that we can move forward. But you have to make a move. I cannot carry us both.

* * *

That is that. Hope is now gone. Regret sets in. I’ve done all I could to try to restore us. I’ve offered myself long enough now. The rejection will stop. I’ve stepped forward but you have not. The end.

So, at 4:00am this morning, crying in the fetal position, I grieve the death of my marriage for the first time since the divorce was final. That’s not really true, I grieve the death of hope. That’s what hurts so badly. I always felt the tiniest drop of hope that our marriage could be restored to something beautiful, more beautiful than we could ever imagine. Now, all that is gone. Hope is gone. The door is closed.